How to Train Your Boys
by rachelgreene
Summary: "Come on Granger. You didn't honestly think we'd just sit back and lose you to the Weasel of all people?" He had a point. She should have seen this coming. This was her ex-husband and son she was dealing with - Malfoys through and through. And Malfoys always had been an awfully possessive lot. Rated M for language and sexual references. DMHG
1. Granger, Get Your Gun

**Author's Note: This will probably only last a few chapters. This first one is so short because it's a prologue of sorts. There are no lemons, but definitely some innuendo.**

**Rating: M for strong language (I am quite keen on the word 'fuck') and sexual references (Draco's quite keen on being an asshole).**  
**  
**

* * *

Ron's hand remained firmly on the small of her lower back as he led her up the porch steps. She didn't mind it as much as she thought she would. After all, it had been a lovely evening. Ron had taken her out to a cozy Italian restaurant in Muggle London. It was small and quiet and expensive, and she couldn't quite believe that it had been Ronald _Weasley_ of all people who had suggested that they go there. She couldn't quite believe that she had agreed either.

Only...Well, it had been a year since the divorce. It had been even longer since she had gone on a real date. When Ron had shyly asked her if they could go have dinner on Friday, she remembered why she had fallen for him back at Hogwarts. Ron, for all of his … lack of sophistication, was sweet. And sweet was endearing. The idea that someone would even _bother _being sweet to her – not demanding or expectant of – was so delicious that she couldn't pass up the opportunity. She was glad that she hadn't.

They reached her door and stopped. It was a beautiful night. The air was clear and fresh and the sound of crickets chirping contentedly hummed all around them.

She wondered idly if she should shag him.

Ron stood in front of her with a flustered look on his face. His clear blue eyes roamed over everything but her (or her face, at least). The hands that were dug miles into his pockets were sweating profusely, she knew. One of his feet tapped once and then stopped. He was nervous.

Draco was never nervous in situations like this.

Well, that decided it. She was totally going to shag him. Hell, she might even have him make her a sandwich when they were done.

And why shouldn't she, really? It had been way too long since she'd had a proper shag (seven months, two weeks, and three days to be exact), and that had been hate sex with Draco. She _deserved _this. She was a loving, considerate mother, a dedicated worker, and a thoughtful person. Besides all that, she was a healthy, fully grown woman with needs. And Ron had the proper equipment. Sure, she had only been with Draco, but what did that matter? The mechanics of the act were the same. If she was being honest, the only difference she really need mind was seeing fire red where she had once viewed platinum blond.

Well, maybe not the only difference.

She glanced down at Ron's hands. Still buried in his pockets.

She glanced down at his feet.

_Hmmm...Hello there, Mr. Weasley. _

"….And Hermione? Hermione? Are you listening to me?"

_No, I'm trying to visualize. Be quiet and let me finish._

She tilted her head. "I'm sorry Ron, what was that?"

"I said I had a really good time tonight."

She felt herself smile widely at him. The gesture was surprisingly genuine. "So did I."

"It was just like old times, yeah?"

"Yes. It was just like old times."

He cleared his throat and remained silent for a moment.

Couldn't he take the hint and lean in already? She hadn't even reached for her house keys. Draco would have been singing about his golden ticket to Pussyville by now.

_Stop comparing Ron to Draco. Draco is far, far away. Ron is here and he cares about you and he makes you feel special and __**it's been seven months**__!_

"Would you possibly like to come in for a nightcap?" she blurted.

Ron nods eagerly and opens his mouth to say something. She doesn't wait to hear it, it isn't important. Instead she throws her arms around his neck and starts snogging him as if his life depends on it.

He reacts by sticking his tongue in her mouth and fisting his hands in her hair.

_Victory!_

And it is victory, but it doesn't last long.

She hears the opening of her front door and stops, horrified, in mid-snog to find her seven year-old son looking up at her.

Behind him stands her husband (_Ex. __Ex husband, ex, ex, ex!_).

Both of them look furious and both of them shout, at exactly the same time:

"Get your hands off my Granger!"

She reminds herself that next time, next time she absolutely _must _get a hotel room.

* * *

**Author's Note: Review, ladies and gents. **


	2. Granger Unleashed

**Author's Note: So soon, you ask? Well yes. This little story's been simmering around in my head for a while, and it's surprisingly easy to write. Also, I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed or favorited. I shit you not, I was doing a victory dance to "Say My Name". Whoo!**

**Sorry. Anyway, thanks to the following people: _write-this-song, Sarahostervig1, LillyOfTheValley, Guest members 1 and 2, and Otterdoctor._Y'all made every square inch of my day. Well, actually early morning. I posted the first chapter at twelve midnight after watching _Friends_ and _Boondocks_. But whatever.**

* * *

She jumps back from Ron, only to be pulled in again. His hands are tangled in her hair.

_Oh sweet Merlin._

"Hold on a moment sweetie," she tells Scorpius. "Mummy's a bit stuck here. She was just saying good night to Uncle Ron."

Ron grunts as she disentangles herself from him. "He still calls you 'Granger'?" he whispers. "Well, I've got him to cut down on it a bit. Now he only says it when he's upset."

"I can hear you!"

Ron shivers as he looks down at Scorpius. She knows what he's thinking. Draco and her son share an absolutely uncanny resemblance. With him yelling the way he is now, and shrieking "Granger!" to top it all off, it's like looking at a slightly younger version of her childhood tormentor.

A headache. She can feel a terrible headache coming on.

"You know, Granger. You really oughtn't to bring home other men while our son is here." The smirk in Draco's voice is another thing that she can feel, but she chooses to ignore it and the fact that _they aren't supposed to be here in the first place._

Hermione kneels down in front of her son and gives herself a mental shake as she prepares to shift into Mum Mode. Scorpius may be…precocious, but there's a possibility that she can do some damage control.

"Darling, I'm so glad to see you here. What a lovely surprise!" She pulls him in for a hug and he returns it rather forcefully.

Ron shrieks behind her.

She rolls her eyes and sighs, pulling him away so that they can maintain eye contact.

"Scorpius, what has Mummy told you about trying to Transfigure your face to scare people?"

Draco snickers.

"Do not encourage him, Draco!"

It's all so unbelievable that, for a moment, she has to stop and reboot herself.

_Deep breath. Do not let him get to you. _

"Now sweetie, why don't you and Daddy go upstairs, hm? Mummy has to finish saying goodbye to Uncle Ron."

Scorpius doesn't budge. Instead he sneers at Ron.

"He's not my Uncle. He's The Weasel. And Father says that he's trying to sneak his way into your playhouse."

Playhouse?

Playhouse?!

Fury overwhelms her as she looks up at a smug Draco. She feels her face overheating, and her hand itches with the urge to grab her wand. The nerve! The absolute nerve! And in front of their _son_, no less!

"That's right, Scorpius. It took your Father eleven months of wheedling, countless trips to Muggle theatres, and a ring to get inside that playhouse. I don't find it fair that The Weasel should be allowed in after only one date. Or at all, come to think of it."

Scorpius nods enthusiastically.

"Playhouse?" shouts an outraged Ron. "I'm not trying to get into any bloody play – Oh."

Hermione can't resist turning around to give him a 'Well duh' look before she attempts to negotiate again.

"Look, Scorpius, sweetie. Mummy isn't letting anyone into her…playhouse tonight, alright?"

_Your prat of a father has made sure of that._

"If you go upstairs right now, I promise to bring you a great big glass of pumpkin juice and some cookies, hm?"

He looks from her to Ron to her and Ron again, suspicion heavy on his little face. Then he turns around to look at Draco.

"Go ahead, son. I'll make sure The Weasel keeps his hands to himself."

_I'm going to kill him._

Scorpius gives her another tight hug before he runs off.

Hermione waits until she hears him close his bedroom door before she launches herself at Draco with a low hiss.

Ron's reflexes must be benefiting nicely from all the Quidditch, because he grabs her around the waist before she can claw Draco's face off.

The physical contact is all she needs to remind herself that she is a twenty-seven year-old mother and that such behavior is really quite shameful.

"Put me down, Ron. I'm fine, really. I'm fine."

Ron obeys slowly, but he obeys.

"Ahem. I'm fine." She straightens her dress. "I apologize to both of you for the scene. That was really very inappropriate."

Draco's smirk widens.

_To hell with it._

She stomps on his foot.

"Ow, fuck, Granger! What was that for?"

Her eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets.

"What was that for?! What was that for?! What was that that _for_?! _What_ was that – "

"Yes, Granger, what was that for?"

She can't move. She honestly cannot move. The tic above her left eye that starts going when she's upset is absolutely throbbing. All she can think is that this isn't possible. She had a plan. A schedule. A new bag of condoms.

This just isn't possible.

"Nice job, Ferret. You broke her." She feels Ron grab her shoulder.

"Hey! Weasel, hands off! Aren't you supposed to be at home wanking it by now? I would think that it's quite clear that it's time for you to leave!"

"Me? Are you serious – "

Their voices drone out around her as she thinks about this situation.

She should have known something like this would happen, really. Why should she have expected a break after the fiasco that has been the last twelve months? Why should she have expected to have a nice, normal date with a nice, normal man and end it with a nice, normal shag? The answer is that she shouldn't have, especially when she had two devious Malfoys trailing behind her to ward off anyone with an Adam's apple.

It was naivety at best, the workings of a delusional mind at worst.

She knew her husband (_ex!_). She knew her son. And she knew that neither Draco Lucius Malfoy nor Scorpius Aloysius Malfoy would accept anything less than her full, undivided attention.

What she did not know was how Draco managed to worm his sneaky, vile, little hands around the wards surrounding her home.

She is buffeted from her thoughts as Ron and Draco sandwich her in between them. They're pushing roughly against her in an effort to get to each other.

_Why, I had a dream like this once._

"Stop it! Both of you!"

They ignore her.

_Of course they do._

She'd been yelling at the men in her life to get a grip since she was ten years old, and it still only works when she points a wand at them.

Well. Drastic times...

"Petrificus Totalus!"

A very immature part of her feels positively gleeful at the sight of Draco and Ron falling over.

She steps over both their bodies, careful not to do any damage to her shoes.

"Goodness! I know I said 'stop', but this is above and beyond. Well, I can see you're preoccupied. I'm going to check on my son. I'll leave you two."

She leans down to give Ron a kiss on the cheek. "I'll call you tomorrow Ron. Like I said earlier, I had a great time."

She looks down at a furious Draco.

_I actually missed this._

Instead of giving that thought any more attention, she kicks his frozen body once (daintily, because she's a bloody lady) before she enters the house and closes the door. A tiny blond head peeks from behind the staircase.

"Mummy, where's Father?"

She takes off her coat.

"Oh, he and Uncle Ron are having a little talk."

Her favorite face in the world wrinkles in distaste.

"The Weasel?"

Despite herself, she laughs. "Do you know, I'm really very glad to see you Scorpius."

His face clears and he runs down the stairs to jump into her arms.

She absolutely loves him. She loves the smell of him, the feel of him, everything. Perhaps, with the way that she babies him, she loves him a bit too much.

As if reading her thoughts, he looks up at her through his long lashes to ask:

"You love me, don't you?"

"Of course, Scorpius, of course."

He looks doubtful.

"And you don't love the Weasel more than you love me, do you?"

"Oh sweetie, no. I'll never love _anyone _more than I love you."

* * *

**Author's Note: If anyone's curious about how Scorpius can even attempt Transfiguration without a wand, remember that children are usually able to do wandless magic. **

**Now. To all of you who reviewed last time, thank you again. To all of you who only alerted or Favorited: **

**I can understand why you maybe wouldn't review the first chapter, even though this one isn't much longer. But throw a girl a bone.**

**If that's not enough to convince you, take into consideration the fact that _I know who you are_.**

**No, I'm just playing.**

**(No I'm not. I signed up for e-mail alerts. Yahoo! bitches. Yahoo!)**


	3. Get it Together Granger

**Author's Note: Cannot believe the amount of reviews I managed to get the second chapter. Wow. Get a little firm with people, and shit gets done man. No, I'm playing you guys. **

**I assure you that I am going to reply to each and every review. Please bear with me on that account. I would like to list everyone by name though:**

RingoHime, Solarscarlettpulse, SerpentofDarkness, GryffLion13, dutch potterfan, henben, Aradia1013, buttercup, nineandthreequarters23, Forbidden Faerie, and Panther Eyes... I love the shit out of each and every one of you.

**Also, some of you want to know about the state of Draco and Hermione's relationship. My response is something similar to an evil cackle.**

* * *

"So, let me get this straight. You were cockblocked by a seven year-old?"

Pansy gives Hermione a thoroughly unimpressed look from across the table. Granted, that isn't saying much. Pansy is impressed by very few things that don't follow the word 'designer'.

"You could say that."

"And I most certainly do. This is _precisely_ why I don't have children."

"Are you sure it isn't because your body rejects anything that requires nurturing or warmth?

"That too. Although, considering the fact that it was Ron of all people who they stopped you from shagging, it might not be such a great loss."

Hermione snaps forward in frustration. "Why does everyone keep saying that? Ron is - he's - he's - "

Pansy's eyebrow nearly reaches the top of her forehead in response. "Yes, Granger?"

"He's sweet!"

Mrs. Potter, understanding woman that she is, snorts.

"When sweet alone starts buying Louboutin's or bringing in the orgasms, you let me know."

"Harry's sweet."

"Harry's not a savage. Besides, I never have to worry about missing out on either one of those things when he's around."

"The pillars of a healthy marriage, truly."

"A healthy marriage, Granger? I think I'm going to let you have that one. It was far too easy."

Hermione sighs and takes another sip of her tea. She isn't even offended (Pansy is right after all). Even if she wanted to be, she doesn't have the energy. Last night took its toll on her. Not to mention the fact that she woke up to Scorpius bouncing on her bed and _begging_ for pancakes. She didn't bother casting the counterspell to Petrificus until she had taken a shower. Draco and Ron had been less than pleased about having to spend an entire night lying next to each other on her front porch.

As much as she hates to admit it, these weekly meetings for tea at Pansy and Harry's flat are really quite relaxing. She doesn't know what she would have done with herself this morning if coming here hadn't been an option. There's something soothing about Pansy's constant criticism that reminds her of someone she knows. Not that she's able to put her finger on who exactly...

Fingers snapping in her face drag her from her reverie. "Hello? Granger? Anyone home?"

"Oh, sorry. Just thinking."

"You _should_ be thinking about how to rein in your boys before they cost you yet another seven month dry spell. You look like shit, and you haven't been much of a picnic to talk to lately either."

Hermione almost falls out of her chair in utter shock. Some things should be said in hushed tones.

"Shh! Honestly! What if Harry hears you?" Hermione casts a glance over at her friend, but he's absorbed in cooking his wife some sort of fancy omelet. Knowing her, she only asked for it just to see Harry do something for her.

Pansy rolls her eyes.

"He doesn't hear anything I don't want him to. Isn't that right, Harry?"

Harry nearly falls over himself trying to respond.

"Yes, darling, yes, of course!"

Pansy cackles, startling her husband even further.

"Sometimes, I'm not sure that you haven't performed a very complicated series of hexes on him."

"Not a _series, _Granger."

"What?"

"Look. This thing with Draco and Scorpius is beginning to be a real problem. I've been trying to keep my opinion to myself – "

Hermione snorts this time.

"Ahem. I've been _trying _to keep my opinion to myself, but now that the two of them are interfering with your sex life, drastic measures must be taken."

"No one realizes this more than me. It's easy for you to sit there and talk. You practically keep Harry handcuffed to the bed, and - " Hermione stops mid-sentence when she notices her friend's rather evil smile.

"_Pansy_. You don't."

"What? You don't see him complaining, do you?"

"Is that why I found that whip in your closet that one time? You told me that was for a horseback riding competition!"

The other woman calmly sips her tea.

"I said nothing. You assumed. Regardless, you come to me for a good rant, Hermione, not for sex advice. Although I'd be happy to tell you, sensory deprivation is one hell of a motivator. Isn't that right, Harry?"

"Yes, darling!"

Pansy nods her head in his direction. "You see that? That's what results from a nice, firm hand."

"You're not just speaking figuratively now, are you?"

"I'll let you decide that, darling."

Hermione shivers.

"Your problem is that sometime between Scorpius being born and you divorcing Malfoy, you've let your "motherly instincts" transfigure you into a doormat. Slytherins are experts at seeking out and exploiting weak spots, particularly when it comes to something that we really, really want."

Pansy pauses to raise her eyebrow again.

"You, Granger, were foolish enough to marry a Malfoy. It's only natural that the two of them have used your new weakness to exert as much control over you as possible."

Hermione had the urge to slouch in her chair. Pansy was right. She was absolutely positively right. Motherhood had made her too soft. All Draco or Scorpius had to do was flash those silver eyes at her and she backed down. Such manipulative behavior might have been excusable for Scorpius. He was only a child, and everything that he learned came from his parents. Draco, on the other hand, had no excuse. He had consciously let his controlling nature override his good judgment.

And she was the bint who had let him.

She had only realized towards the end that her resentment towards him for that had been one of the things that led to their divorce.

"Merlin. You're right. What did I do?"

"It's what you didn't do. You didn't train your boys."

Hermione looks up at her friend in shock.

"Train? Pansy, you make them sound like _pets_."

"That's a great way to think of it, Granger. They _are _like pets. They'll only do as much as you let them do."

"I just – no." Hermione shakes her head. "I just don't believe in all that. I think that there should be an equal power balance in a relationship between two consenting adults who – "

"Wrong, wrong, wrong. For Merlin's sake, where did you read that? Some self-help book?"

Silence.

"Oh, you did, didn't you?" The smile that Pansy gives her is absolutely serpentine. Hermione would never in a million years have hought that she would grow up to find herself surrounded by Slytherins.

"I will have you know that Acrisius Blackfoot is a highly respected sociologist and relationship expert and – "

"Acrisius?" Pansy's nose wrinkles. "Doesn't that mean 'locust'?"

…

"Look, Granger, this is your problem. Had you held a firmer hand on Draco, he wouldn't have gotten so outrageous and possessive. Such behavior is positively shameful."

"You're possessive of Harry. You're _friends_ with Ginny and you won't even let him be alone in the same room with her."

Pansy dabs her mouth gently with a napkin. "You're quite right. We are friends. Which is why I'll be ever so disappointed if I ever have to slit that bitch from head to toenail. But that's a different matter entirely."

"Of course."

"Of course. Now, as I was saying. Had you had a firmer hand on Draco, he wouldn't have developed such ridiculous behavior, and he wouldn't have passed it on to Scorpius. Face it. If you ever want a moment's peace – or a decent shag – you need to train your boys."

Harry arrives with Pansy's omelet. He places it in front of her with all the flourish of a high-end waiter.

She kisses the top of his head. "Thank you Harry."

He actually blushes.

Pansy snaps her fingers, triggering something from Harry that sounds suspiciously like a purr. He doesn't seem to notice, but Hermione does.

"Oh sweet Merlin!"

"You see, Granger? The benefits are absolutely fabulous."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Again, I really, really appreciate all of the reviews. I've been sick for the past two days -**

**(which, coincidentally enough, is one of the reasons why these updates are coming so fast. I've got nothing to do with my life right now except down Nyquil, listen to Bootylicious, and read Jack London novels)**

**- so this is just the thing to cheer me up. Maybe the inspiration will continue if the reviews do...**

**P.S. - Sorry about the long-ass author's notes.**


	4. Granger Revisited

**A/N: Now, I know what you're thinking. "Bitch, where have you been? You have an _obligation! _You can't just flake out on us! This isn't Cosmetology!"  
****And you rude, hurtful people are right. Nevertheless, a good part of this isn't my fault. Like a _solid_ 40%. Maybe 42%. I was without the Internet for a while, and I also had college stuff to take care of. Anyway, because I work in short bursts, you'll probably see two or three more chapters in the very near future. ****  
**

* * *

Draco stood in front of their bedroom mirror, adjusting his bow-tie and admiring his reflection.

"My God, Granger! How _did_ you manage to snap up such a fine specimen of man as myself?"

She grunted in response as she tried to shove her feet into the Size 6 boots Pansy had gotten her as a gift. The other witch had specifically forbid her from using magic on them. Her exact words might have been, "And don't you fucking dare use a charm on these. Only heathens would tamper with Jimmy Choo."

"I consider it a combination of bad luck, bad alcohol, and even worse decision-making."

Her husband _tsked_ in response. "That's ridiculous. That Firewhiskey was first rate."

"Ugh! Got them!" Hermione looked down at her boots with the grim smile of a conqueror. "I have to admit it. They _are _rather pretty."

Draco took a moment to glance at them before cracking out the hair gel. "I agree. They give you the illusion of legs."

Now, Draco had teased Hermione about her short legs since the very beginning of their relationship. It was his third favorite flaw to point out, right after her "slightly charming, but catastrophically bushy hair" and her "inexcusably short stature". She in turn mocked him for his ghostly skin, effeminate hygiene habits, and pointy chin. It was and always had been their idea of sweet talk, and it had never truly bothered either of them.

Which is why Draco was justifiably shell-shocked when Hermione burst into tears.

He reared back instinctively, then tried to approach the bed where his wife sat.

"Granger! What are you – what? You're crying!"

"I know that I'm crying you emaciated, twit!"

Draco blinked at the implication that his body was anything but the golden standard by which all other men are judged.

"I – I – well, stop! Yes, that's it! Stop it! Stop it this instant!"

Hermione sobbed harder.

"Granger, please!" He kneeled in front of her and reached for her hands. She swatted at him.

"What's wrong?"

"You – you!" she hiccupped. "You think my – my – legs are short!"

"Well. They are. It's not so bad really. The rest of you isn't very long either. If it makes you feel better, your other girly bits are quite fantastic, if you know what I - Ow! Merlin! My hair!"

"Don't try and flatter me, Malfoy! You don't even think of me as a girl unless we're _shagging_! I heard you and Harry joke about me being 'unfeminine' the other day!"

She seethed as she watched her husband carefully arrange his hair.

"Darling, you killed a spider with your hand."

"I was in a rush!"

"That's really no excuse. That thing was huge. And it _smelled._"

Hermione made a rumbling sound.

Draco flinched before taking a deep breath and grasping his wife's shoulders.

"Granger, darling, we were joking. At least, I was. Potter's a twit; feel free to be angry with him. Anyway. I didn't mean what I said. I'm sorry that I hurt your feelings. I find you very, very feminine. Your most excellent knockers make it very hard not to."

Hermione sniffed.

"They are excellent."

"Ha! Exactly! Now, if you'll excuse me, my hair isn't going to gel itself." He kissed her on the cheek and started to rise.

"Wait a minute, Malfoy."

Draco halted.

"'Malfoy', again? What is it now?"

"Well. Your constant insensitivity and casual sexism aren't the only reasons why I got a bit upset a moment ago."

She quickly shot him a look daring him to argue about what constituted as 'a bit'.

He was wise enough to remain silent.

"I have news. I've been meaning to tell you for some time, and now is as good a time as any."

This was the sort of news that changed relationships forever. The fact that it was unplanned compounded her anxiety. She wasn't sure how he would handle it, especially since it involved him not being the center of attention. No matter. It had to be done.

"I'm pregnant."

* * *

There were two reasons why Hermione was surprised to find Draco Lucius Malfoy snogging her on their marital bed.

One was that he was usually very stern about snogging when he was in the process of doing his hair.

The other was that this was not the reaction she was expecting. As a matter of fact, it was the wrong reaction. Hermione Granger did not just sit back and let such behavior go unquestioned, no matter how absurdly wonderful it might feel.

"Wait a minute. Get off! This isn't right!"

Draco blinked. "What?"

"This isn't right! This isn't how you reacted when I told you that I was pregnant! You fainted! Which was very ironic considering the conversation we just had about traditional femininity, but nevertheless. This isn't the right reaction! This didn't happen!"

"Actually it did. Five seconds ago. Wait, no. That's not a good estimate. Your little speech definitely lasted a bit longer than forever. I'm going to finish kissing you."

He leaned in, but she swatted him again.

"No! This didn't happen! This isn't how it went!"

Draco sighed. "Fine, you win. As you must. This isn't real."

"What?"

"This is a dream that you're having. You're recalling the experience that you believe led to the compromise of your famous willpower, which led to the dissolution of our marriage and your failure as a wife and mother. Only you're changing my reaction into something out of a heated, two-pound paperback because you still have unresolved feelings for me of the sexual variety. Also, you're horny and sloshed."

Hermione blushed. "That is absolutely ridiculous! I only had two glasses of Chardonnay!"

"Correction: You had two _and a half_, you poor, pathetic lightweight. You can't fool your subconscious. You can, however, shag me. It'll be just like old times. Only now you can narrate it. It'll be full of heaving bosoms and slick bodies and love sticks. Well, just the one love stick. But what a one it is."

Dream Draco wiggled his eyebrows.

"I won't even beg you to do that thing you say you hate that you won't even articulate now when there's no one around to hear."

Hermione sniffed.

"I don't know why you had to bring that up. It makes me feel common."

"Oh, you love it. Anyway, it's your choice Hermione. You can squash me right now with your subconscious. You can take revenge on me and make me eat my own toes. You can turn me into something else that you enjoy. Whatever. Or. You can let me give you orgasms that will make you, and I'm quoting loosely here, 'see stars'. Whatever that means."

"But…But if I do that, it will be the equivalent of admitting that I have feelings for you. And I don't. I really don't."

Dream Draco kisses her on the forehead. It feels tingly, just like the real thing.

"It's just us Hermione."

And Dream Draco was so _real_. Pointy and pale and smug but earnest and desperate because it was just them and of course she still wanted –

"_Auntie Hermione!"_

"What was that?" Hermione twisted her head from side to side, seeing nothing but the illusion of the old bedroom that she and Draco had shared.

"That, my dear Hermione, is the sound of one of Ginny's brats. One of the twins. Johnathan, maybe?"

"His name is _Joshua_, Draco. And I don't see them."

"That's because they're not in this little dream. They're in your living room. And they're about to wake you up. Rudely. I guess it's a good thing you didn't take me up on my offer earlier. It would be pretty scarring for little Jimmy to find his Aunt Hermione moaning on the couch. If I remember correctly (and I do because _you _do), you're quite the screamer."

"Shut up!"

Dream Draco puts his hands up defensively.

"You're the one who insists on me being an accurate portrait of my actual self. You could have made me polite."

"I could have." Hermione straightens her back, preparing herself for the real world. "I could have, but it wouldn't have been the same."

Dream Draco's eyes looked sad for a moment, just like the real Draco's had looked that last time. He was probably about to say something. Whatever it was, she didn't hear it.

"Auntie Hermione!"

She woke up.

* * *

**I hope that doesn't count as a cliffhanger. I mean, I asked the same thing when I updated my other story the other day. It's because I personally hate the damn things, and have no wish to inflict them on other people. Regardless. Review please. Don't make me beg.**


End file.
